


to see you smile (if it takes just a little while)

by shafferthefirst



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, based off of jemma's video in 3x05, pre-season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shafferthefirst/pseuds/shafferthefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The making of the birthday video, and the repercussion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to see you smile (if it takes just a little while)

**Author's Note:**

> I've watched the birthday video at least 60 times now and I couldn't resist embellishing it a little :) and a shoutout to cindy for cheering me on the past few days!
> 
> Title is from Don't Stop by Fleetwood Mac. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Following the departure of his partner eighteen days ago exactly, Leopold Fitz noticeably deflates.

 

Not that he was a ray of sunshine before Simmons left. To be honest, Skye doesn’t remember the last time she’s seen him genuinely smile since…their accident.

 

(Well, that is not entirely true. There was a moment, a flicker of positive emotion, she saw a glimpse of when Coulson readied the car and the rest of the team gathered to send her off. Trip had squeezed her shoulder and grinned ear-to-ear, happy his teammate was taking the time off he knew she needed. May gave her a fond knowing look that ended in a small smile, taking her suitcase from her as she passed. Skye pulled her into a hug and made her promise not to go to crazy on the tea, since she’ll have easier access in her homeland, which earned her a soft laugh and a nod.

 

May ushered the hacker out of the loading dock, presumably to continue her training, but not before catching Jemma try to hold herself back from making a scene and instead hold small conversation, before throwing her arms around Fitz’s neck and pulling him close.

 

Skye’s breath nearly hitched at the sight of the tiny smile forming across his face at the contact, something deprived for such a long time with his newfound struggles and frustration with himself, and then it really did when they broke apart and Jemma’s attempt of subtly wiping away a tear was unnoticed by him but not by anyone else trying very hard not to watch.

 

Coulson gave her a firm nod as he climbed into the driver’s seat, which she mimicked back and turned to her partner once more.

 

“Goodbye, Fitz,” she said sweetly. “See you soon.”)

 

But this Fitz before her, slumped on the sofa, all but twiddling his thumbs alone in the lounge, is different than what unfortunately became the norm. This Fitz is full on _moping_.

 

She plops down beside him and he doesn’t look up.

 

“Hey buddy,” she says gently in her best big-sistering voice despite the two years he has on her. The one that normally worked at least an eye-roll out of him.

 

“Skye,” he mumbles. He’s pitiful and it’s eating her alive.

 

They sit quietly until she can no longer bear it, which is a full sixty seconds. Arguably fifty-five.

 

“I know you miss her. I miss her too.”

 

He sighs. “I, ah, know she n-needs…time. And going, um, going…going home for a-a bit, it’ll…be g-good for her. But…um…” He squeezes his eyes shut and she winces sympathetically.

 

“I’m sure she’ll be back soon enough.”

 

“I-I…I know, but…it-she’s…”

 

“Fitz, it’s okay-“ He waves her off, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

 

Skye stops talking altogether then, instead turning her attention to her phone in her lap.

 

If there’s one other thing she’s “weirdly good” with, it’s memorizing dates; a small tick she picked up after learning St. Agnes’ activity calendar forwards, backwards and upside down to give her and the younger girls something to look forward to when life yanked the rug beneath their little feet. So when the date catches her eye, her mouth drops open and her chest tightens from every angle.

 

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “It’s her birthday.”

 

Nodding weakly, he says, “I’m…I’m sure she’s…um, spending t-time with her…fam-…family, but I…I’ve tried…ah, to…I’ve…she-I, um, called, but…”

 

She doesn’t need the end of his sentence to know where it’s going.

 

“You’re her family too,” she states.

 

He swallows hard, meeting her eye finally. “We…all are.”

 

Drumming her fingers on her chin, Skye ponders this information until she snaps, a cartoon light bulb practically sparking into existence above her head. She springs to her feet.

 

“I have an idea!”

 

-

 

(“So…you’re _sure_ we can’t run and pick up party hats real quick.”

 

Without looking up from the plastic bag he’s loading icing into, Coulson says _yes_ in time with May’s _we’re sure,_ tracing a pencil over the details of the TARDIS print-out laying on the counter.

 

Skye huffs. “Well _I_ thought it would be funny.”)

 

-

 

“Okay, this setup is too posed,” the young agent critiques, gesturing for the group to stand up and shuffle around for the third time. “Coulson, don’t stand up so straight! This isn’t a business conference; loosen up!”

 

She glances through the borrowed camcorder Trip bestowed upon her via text after receiving a wordy message while out and about on a solo mission. “And May, scoot closer so you’re actually in the shot. C’mon, act like you like each other!”

 

“You know,” Coulson comments, “I could easily direct this and have it done much quicker.”

 

“Nope, my turn in the director’s chair.” She smirks, “And I _know_ you want to show off that cake you slaved over.”

 

-

 

They try to be patient with Fitz, they really do. But one take turns into two turns into ten, and each ends with his words escaping his train of thought and his tongue tying and he needs longer and longer to regroup afterwards. And by take sixteen he’s at his wit’s end.

 

He exits abruptly to clear his head and May is not surprised but a little heartbroken to find him with his head facedown on the coffee table, breathing heavily.

 

He’s been so strong, toughing it out at turns of the worst, so a fit like this is only to be expected.

 

But it doesn’t make it any easier to watch.

 

“Fitz.”

 

“M’fine.”

 

“Then look at me.”

 

He hesitates but eventually lifts his head to reveal his face, red and blotchy from blood flow and frustration at his own lack of self-regulation.

 

“You know Simmons won’t care-“

 

“But she will!” he exclaims. If she’s a little taken aback by his raise of voice, she doesn’t comment. “She will. Care. She…she always…c-cares. I, um, don’t-“

 

“You don’t want her to see that you’re still struggling.”

 

“…Yeah. Tha’s it.” She opens her mouth to speak but he continues. “It’s her b-birth…day. First one w-with-out…me in, um…in a…a long time. I want…I…d-don’t want her to, ah…feel…”

 

May falls silent, waiting for him to say more, but he doesn’t. She gets the message.

 

Coulson pokes his head into the room. “Hey, if we’re going to start again we need to do it soon. Cake’s getting room temperature and no one wants that.”

 

“Most people leave cake at room temperature, Phil.”

 

“Yeah and most people are wrong. It’s definitely supposed to be eaten cold.”

 

She rolls her eyes halfheartedly. “On our way.” Kneeling to meet Fitz at eye level, she says, “C’mon. You can do this.”

 

Fitz sighs heavily and peels himself from his spot to follow her back to the room, caught very much off guard when she plucks the camcorder from Skye’s hands and passes it to him.

 

“Hey! I’m directing!” Skye complains.

 

“No, Fitz is,” she simply says, turning back to the engineer of subject and giving him a reassuring grin. And it’s law.

 

-

 

As it turns out, the change in tactic does actually help, taking the direct pressure clean off and giving him better timing to gather his words at his own pace.

 

It’s far from perfect, the camera shakes just a little, the clip itself is much goofier than initially intended (thanks to Coulson hamming it up and Skye snickering away at him), and it takes Fitz a full five tries to get his rehearsed message completely fluid, but the deed is done.

 

It’s far from perfect, but so are they.

 

_“Happy birthday, Jemma!”_

-

 

_“It’s not the same without you here. Say hi to your parents for me and I’ll see you soon.”_

 

The solitary half eaten cupcake and drained bottle of beer are long forgotten as she replays it again and again from her spot in the living room floor. For the first time in eighteen days, her apartment doesn’t seem too big for her lonesome; instead it’s filled with the voices of her team echoing off the yellow walls and feels a little lighter, homier. Her cheeks burn from smiling. She plays it again.

 

She pauses on the smirk he gives at the end of the ninth loop and loses her breath when she comes to the realization. _He’s not stuttering._

_He’s getting better._

For the first time in seemingly ages, the knot binding tighter and tighter in the pit of her stomach seems to loosen and she can feel the weight on her chest ease.

 

_He’s okay._

 

The voice swirling around her mind for weeks and weeks reminding her that she did the right thing makes its way around once again.

 

For the first time in weeks and weeks, she truly believes it.

 

Come Hell or Hydra or this place she’s somewhere in between, the end result will be just fine. 

 

Jemma dries the tears falling freely from her eyes and hits play once more.

_“Okay, Jemma. Get ready to make a wish, and we will blow out the candle for you.”_


End file.
